


The Wrong Way

by toyhto



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst With Hope, Geralt is bad with emotions, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: Geralt needs Jaskier to need him again.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 100
Kudos: 637





	The Wrong Way

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not exactly sure what happened with this story. I wanted it to be a little dark but with a happy ending.
> 
> You can say hi to me on [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!

Something was wrong.  
  
Geralt grabbed his sword and climbed onto his feet from where he had been laying on his bedroll. He couldn’t hear anything except for his own heart beating slowly. It was still dark, hours until dawn, and there was nothing to be seen, only the shape of the mountains around him and the crescent moon. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that something was…  
  
Missing.  
  
He took a deep breath and lowered his sword. _Fuck._ It was a quiet night, there probably wasn’t a monster within miles, and if there was, it certainly wasn’t interested in killing him. Roach was standing not teen feet away from him, watching him with a mixture of mild curiosity and annoyance.  
  
“Sorry,” he told her. He had clearly woken her up. As she was still watching him, he put his sword back in the sheath and walked to her. He rubbed her neck and wanted to tell her that he wasn’t an idiot, but there was no point in that. She already knew better.  
  
He walked to the bedroll, sat down and stayed there a long time before laying down. He had quarreled with Jaskier before. Jaskier would find him again like he always did, and they would talk no more of it. Everything would go back to normal. Or if it didn’t, if Jaskier didn’t come back this time, Geralt would get used to missing him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Jaskier didn’t come back, and Geralt didn’t get used to missing him. He didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to the feeling that something was wrong, though. He stopped sleeping. He tried everything: he counted monsters, he told Roach stories about the times she hadn’t been born yet, and he casted a spell on himself. He even drank all the alcohol he found in his saddlebags, but that only made it worse, because clearly it had been Jaskier who had hidden all the alcohol in there, and the more he drank, the more he thought about Jaskier. That night, he didn’t sleep but stared at the black sky and wondered where Jaskier was and what he was doing and with whom and why he had put the alcohol in Geralt’s saddlebags.  
  
After another night of barely sleeping, he told Roach that he couldn’t take it anymore. Jaskier wasn’t worth losing his sleep over. Roach seemed a little worried but didn’t say anything.  
  
It took him only half a day to find Jaskier. He hadn’t exactly been following Jaskier after the quarrel on the mountain. It was just that he had known Jaskier would want to find him eventually, and it would be more convenient for them both, if Geralt wasn’t too far away. And he hadn’t been wrong, only it was he who wanted to find Jaskier and not the other way around. But he didn’t have much patience for details just now. He had slept poorly for at least four nights and he felt stretched thin in a way he didn’t want to feel ever again.  
  
He walked straight to the inn where Jaskier was staying for the night. The room full of people fell silent, which was nothing unusual. The unusual part was that Jaskier was sitting in the stool in the middle of the crowd, holding his lute but not saying anything.  
  
Geralt waited.  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath and started the song from the beginning. It wasn’t about Geralt. It was about a fair maiden in the market day, a girl who could have had anyone but didn’t care for men. Jaskier closed his eyes and sang about the girl’s dream to see the whole wide world, and the people in the room slowly stopped staring at Geralt and turned back to Jaskier, and Geralt just stood there. Then the song ended, and Jaskier started another, and Geralt bought himself an ale and sat down in the darkest corner he could find.  
  
Jaskier sang for almost an hour. Geralt drank two more ales and had some stew, and then he couldn’t figure out what to do anymore, so he just sat there, staring. Jaskier seemed alright. He was alive and well and singing songs about everything else except Geralt, or so it seemed. He looked like he had been able to sleep. And Geralt squeezed his fingers tightly around his empty pint and thought that maybe, just maybe Jaskier hadn’t been planning to come back to him this time. Maybe what he had said on the mountain had been too much. He remembered his own words a little vaguely, but they hadn’t been nice. He had been… he didn’t know what he had been. But he certainly hadn’t meant to drive Jaskier away like this. He needed Jaskier. He couldn’t have lost both Yennefer and Jaskier at the same day. Now everything he had left was Roach, and he had to admit that Roach was a little quiet.  
  
When Jaskier finally stopped singing, it was almost midnight. The last song had been a ballad that had half the room trying to hide that they were crying a little. Normally, Jaskier would have been biting back a smile after a success like that, but now he only took his lute and started heading to the door.  
  
Geralt stood up. “Jaskier –“  
  
Jaskier stopped, then slowly turned to Geralt. Now that he was standing a little closer to Geralt, it was obvious that he hadn’t slept too well, either. “What?”  
  
Geralt blinked. “Can I… where’re you going?”  
  
“To sleep,” Jaskier said.  
  
“You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping well,” Geralt said. “I haven’t.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Fucking hell, Geralt. We can’t just stand there. Do you have a room?”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
“Fine,” Jaskier said and started walking. Geralt followed him. It was weird to follow Jaskier, since it was always Jaskier who came to him. But he wasn’t going to let Jaskier disappear again. He followed at Jaskier’s footsteps as they walked upstairs and to the room that already smelled of Jaskier and had all Jaskier’s things on the bed. Geralt closed the door.  
  
“You’re going to have to apologize,” Jaskier said, standing in the middle of the room, his hands rested on his hips. He sounded more tired than angry.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath. “Because I had been really beginning to think that we were friends. And I know you’ve pointed out several times that we aren’t, but the last time you did that was, like, ten years ago or something.”  
  
“We _are_ friends. I’m sorry that I –“  
  
“Do you remember,” Jaskier cut in, “when that drowner almost got you not three months ago?”  
  
“It didn’t almost get me,” Geralt said.  
  
“You were half-dead –“  
  
“Barely unconscious and almost breathing.”  
  
“- and I dragged you back to the village and to the mage, and then I didn’t fucking sleep for two fucking nights because I was so worried about you.”  
  
“That was completely unnecessary,” Geralt said, but there was something weird happening with his voice. He cleared his throat. “But, you know. Thank you. And I’m…”  
  
“Sorry,” Jaskier said, pointing a finger at him, “well, you should be. I’ve spent half of my life following you around. I’ve given up on other things for you, Geralt, and I know you never asked me to, I know you didn’t fucking want me to, but I have. And now I think I’ve been a goddamn idiot, because I thought I meant something to you.”  
  
“You _do._ Jaskier –“  
  
“I don’t think I can trust you anymore,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt swallowed. He waited for Jaskier to smile and say it had been a joke, or to sigh and say that he would expect Geralt to let him ride on Roach for a _month_ after this. But he didn’t.  
  
“You can trust me,” Geralt said finally. “I’d never let anyone kill you.”  
  
“That’s not the kind of trust I’m talking about,” Jaskier said. “You save me when something tries to kill me, but then when you’re tired of me you get rid of me just as easily.”  
  
“I was wrong,” Geralt said. His voice was hoarse, and his heart was beating uncomfortably fast and he didn’t want to talk like this, he wanted Jaskier to banter and laugh and call him names and take a bath with him and then go to sleep and forget about this whole thing. But it seemed like Jaskier was waiting for something of him and he didn’t know what that was. “What do you want me to do?”  
  
Jaskier was quiet for a long while, then turned away from Geralt and started undressing. “You can sleep on the floor for the night if you want to. And we can have breakfast. But tomorrow, I’m leaving, and I don’t want you to follow me.”  
  
Geralt opened his mouth and then closed it again. Then he watched as Jaskier cleaned himself with a basin of water and a damp cloth and then got to the bed. When Jaskier told him to put out the candles, he did. Then he placed his bedroll on the floor in the dark and lay down. Jaskier stayed awake for a while and then fell asleep, and Geralt listened to him breathing and tried to think.  
  
There had to be something Jaskier wanted of him and didn’t say. There had to be something he could do. He had snapped at Jaskier many times. It just couldn’t be that this time, Jaskier wouldn’t forgive him. There was a way to fix this, and he just had to figure it out. He needed Jaskier to need him. He needed…  
  
He stood up. Jaskier was asleep, breathing in a steady rhythm. He didn’t inch when Geralt sat on the edge of the bed. He looked younger like this, but he was right, he had followed Geralt for twenty years and there were lines under his eyes that hadn’t been there before. And it was a long time since he had spent time with a woman. His attempts at flirting with Téa and Véa had been even below his usual standards. Maybe that was what he had meant when he had said he had given up on some things for Geralt. Maybe he had wanted to find a spouse like humans often did. Maybe he wanted to have a warm body pressed against him in the cold of the night.  
  
Geralt climbed onto him and then, very carefully, touched his face with his fingertips.  
  
Jaskier startled awake, grabbed Geralt’s wrist and then froze. His heart was beating loudly, his breathing was ragged, and he was staring at Geralt with wide eyes.  
  
“It’s just me,” Geralt said, although he didn’t know why. That much was obvious. Jaskier was human but he wasn’t completely blind.  
  
“What the fucking hell, Geralt?” Jaskier asked in a thin voice that broke in the middle of the sentence.  
  
Geralt shook his head. “I just thought…” But he didn’t know how to finish it.  
  
Jaskier stared at him. “You thought what?”  
  
“Don’t be afraid,” Geralt said, although it was clear that Jaskier wasn’t afraid. He pressed his thumb against Jaskier’s chin. Jaskier hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. That was odd. Jaskier always shaved, even when they were alone on the road and it was completely pointless.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, only he sounded like he wasn’t breathing properly, “Geralt, you’ve always been weird, but this is bad, even for you. Get off me.”  
  
“Really?” Geralt asked. He had his knees on both sides of Jaskier’s hips. He had his elbows leaning against the mattress not an inch away from Jaskier’s arms. But he wasn’t touching Jaskier. And Jaskier wasn’t afraid of him.  
  
Jaskier licked his lips. “What’re you _doing?_ ”  
  
“I don’t know exactly.”  
  
“You can’t just wake me up like this,” Jaskier said, his voice small now, his eyes flicking back and forth on Geralt’s face, “you can’t look at me like that, Geralt. You’re going to mess up my mind so badly I won’t know how to fix it. Do you have a goddamn clue what this feels like, to me?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. He could smell it. It was faint but easily recognizable. He had travelled with Jaskier for a long time.  
  
“You fucking asshole,” Jaskier said. He was breathing hard now.  
  
“Let me touch you,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier bit his lip. “Why?”  
  
“Because you want me to.”  
  
“That’s not… Geralt, that’s not the right answer.”  
  
“Why?” Geralt asked and lowered himself, just a little, just enough for his thigh to brush against Jaskier’s. Jaskier jolted.  
  
“Because…” Jaskier said and bit his lip. “Because it’s not about… You can’t just come to my bed like this and tell me I want you.”  
  
“You do,” Geralt said.  
  
“Yes, well,” Jaskier said, staring at him, “I’ve wanted you for a long time. You know that, you bastard. You probably can read it in my mind or something.”  
  
“I can smell it.”  
  
“You never did anything about it,” Jaskier said, “before.” And he covered Geralt’s hand with his own. His mouth was half-open and Geralt’s thumb was resting against his chin, so close that Geralt could feel the warmth of his breath. “Why the fuck would you do this now, Geralt?”  
  
“I can’t let you leave me.”  
  
“That’s not a reason,” Jaskier said, then took a deep breath. “That’s not a _good_ reason.”  
  
“I’m here, Jaskier,” Geralt said, “and I’m willing.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him for a few seconds. He thought vaguely that Jaskier would tell him to get out of the bed, get out of the room. Jaskier would tell him that he was out of line and that it meant nothing that he could smell Jaskier’s arousal sometimes when they were alone, undressing, or taking a bath, or waking up to another morning; that it meant nothing that Jaskier was aroused now that Geralt was on him. Humans needed someone to touch them and Jaskier was a human. It wasn’t about _Geralt._ Jaskier didn’t want _him_ and it was crazy that he had believed Jaskier might, that he had believed he could make Jaskier need him if only he offered to -  
  
Jaskier took a sharp breath, pushed his hand in between their bodies and tried to undo the laces on Geralt’s trousers.  
  
“This is a bad idea,” Jaskier said, his fingers clumsy and hasty. Geralt wanted to help him but couldn’t, not without losing balance and falling onto him. Jaskier was still holding Geralt’s hand pressed tightly against the side of his face. “I know I haven’t always been _sensible_ about things like this,” Jaskier said, finally managing Geralt’s laces, “with things like, I don’t know, deciding who to sleep with, but this is bad, even for me, this is really bad, Geralt, do you know for how long I’ve kind of dreamed about this?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. He didn’t, really. He just knew about the staring. But ‘yes’ clearly was the right answer, because Jaskier gave him a long sigh and a resigned look. Then, Jaskier pushed his hand inside Geralt’s smallclothes and wrapped his fingers around Geralt’s dick in a loose grip, like it was a bird he was trying not to squeeze. Geralt snorted.  
  
“Shut up,” Jaskier said, his fingers tightening just a little. “You can’t fake this, right?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He could have, with suitable potions and a spell. But he wasn’t. It was easy enough to get hard when Jaskier was lying underneath him like that, angry and resigned and his hand on Geralt’s cock.  
  
“I didn’t think you would want me like this,” Jaskier said in a small voice.  
  
“You’ve been wrong before.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, “no, it’s not that. It’s…” But he didn’t finish it. He pulled his hand away and then shoved Geralt in the chest with his elbow, not hard enough to knock him off his knees but hard enough that it was almost as if he meant it.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I can’t undress when you’re hovering over me like that,” Jaskier said and then just lay there as Geralt sat up on his heels. Jaskier was flushed and his heartbeat was so fast it was almost concerning, but Geralt couldn’t concentrate on that, not with the way Jaskier’s eyes kept moving down his chest and stopping at his crotch. “What’re we going to do?”  
  
“Whatever you want.”  
  
“That’s not how it works.”  
  
Geralt didn’t know what to say to that.  
  
“We’re supposed to…” And Jaskier made a vague gesture in between his and Geralt’s bodies. It wasn’t informative at all. “What do you want of me, Geralt?”  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. “I want you to tell me what you want me to do.”  
  
“I can’t…” Jaskier took a deep breath and then another, and then he bit his lip and started tugging off his smallclothes. Geralt blinked. “What if I want…” Jaskier paused and threw his pants onto the floor. Then he took off his shirt.  
  
“Just tell me,” Geralt said.  
  
“Take off your clothes,” Jaskier said, “I’m not going to be the only one who’s naked in here. Geralt, this is bad. We can’t just do this.”  
  
“Then tell me to go,” Geralt said. He wasn’t going to, of course. But there was no way Jaskier was going to make him leave now that he had already undressed for Geralt, not now that he was panting and hard and couldn’t look at Geralt’s face for more than a few seconds at a time. Geralt put his hand on Jaskier’s knee. Jaskier jolted but still didn’t say anything, and Geralt took off his own shirt. Then he climbed out of the bed and pushed his pants to his ankles, stepped out of them and stood there.  
  
“So,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice. He was staring at Geralt’s cock. “You could fuck me.”  
  
“Alright,” Geralt said.  
  
“Alright?” Jaskier said. “ _Alright?_ Alright, you’re going to fuck me?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Just like that.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Could I have asked you of anything? Is that what this is?”  
  
Geralt opened his mouth and closed it again. It was a bit difficult, trying to guess what else Jaskier might have asked of him. He would have gladly put his mouth on Jaskier, but there wasn’t much else he could imagine Jaskier wanting of him.   
  
“Would you kiss me?” Jaskier said barely in a whisper.  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. He could do that. “Now?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said and took a sharp breath that sounded a little like laughing, “no, we need to… Just get here, Geralt. Just get to it. I’m losing my nerve here.”  
  
“Don’t,” Geralt said but got back to the bed, climbed onto Jaskier again, only this time they were both naked, so when his knee brushed against the inside of Jaskier’s thigh, he could feel the damp warm skin against his own. He pushed his knee forward until he was pressing against Jaskier’s crotch. “Don’t lose your nerve.”  
  
“Fucking hell, Geralt,” Jaskier said, but he didn’t sound angry anymore. He sounded like he wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, like that one time when Geralt had had a swordfight with a mage who had been wearing an invisibility spell, only now Jaskier didn’t seemed frightened. Good. Geralt wouldn’t have wanted him that way, of course not. He wanted Jaskier to trust him and need him and… “Do I need to tell you what to do?” Jaskier asked, grabbing Geralt’s wrist and squeezing. “Are you waiting for instructions?”  
  
Geralt shook his head. “I’m just looking at you.”  
  
“Well,” Jaskier said and cleared his throat. Then he pressed tighter against Geralt’s knee. “Maybe you could stare at me later. Because I know already that I’m going to fucking regret this and I’d like to get on with it.”  
  
“Okay,” Geralt said, backed away a little and took a firm grip on Jaskier’s hips.  
  
“Fingers,” Jaskier said, “I need your fingers in my ass first.”  
  
Geralt blinked. “Of course.”  
  
“ _Of course_ ,” Jaskier said in a breathless voice, “of course I do, you goddamn idiot, you can’t just shove your dick into me or it’s going to fucking _hurt._ And take the oil. I have it in my bag. I can’t believe I’m saying all this to you. I’ve been kind of wondering if I’m losing my mind, you know, following you around all the time even though it’s obvious that you don’t… But this, this is me being so crazy I can’t even… Yes, that’s the oil. Come back here. And stop looking at me like that. You’re looking at me like you’re going to…” But he stopped talking, when Geralt pushed his knees apart and sat down in between them. “Fucking hell,” he said and pushed the back of his head against the pillow so that Geralt couldn’t see much of his face anymore. “And one finger at a time, Geralt.”  
  
“I know how to do this,” Geralt said. The oil was surprisingly slippery on his hand.  
  
“No, you don’t you, fucking idiot. I can’t believe I’m going to let you – _ah._ ”  
  
He placed his hand on Jaskier’s hip and pressed him against the mattress, but lightly. Just enough that Jaskier would stop wriggling. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Jaskier. And then he pushed his finger just a little deeper, and Jaskier took a sharp breath and jolted, and he pressed his palm tighter against Jaskier’s hip, and Jaskier breathed in and out and swore at him, but in a nice way. Maybe this was what Jaskier was like with his lovers.  
  
But it turned out that Geralt didn’t want to think of Jaskier’s lovers. It was better not to think that someone else had touched Jaskier like this before. He pushed in a second finger and Jaskier clenched tight around him for a few seconds. He drew slow circles on Jaskier’s hip with his thumb and Jaskier slowly relaxed. It was good. He was pretty certain he hadn’t been thinking about what it would be like to do this to Jaskier, but now he didn’t know why. It was like he was everything Jaskier could think of. And for once, Jaskier wasn’t even talking. It was perfect. He kept two fingers in Jaskier’s ass and then took Jaskier’s cock in his free hand. He did it slowly but Jaskier jolted anyway, and then tilted his head to the side on the pillow and looked at him with wide eyes and open mouth, panting, so hard in Geralt’s hand it had to be uncomfortable. He gave Jaskier a gentle tug. Jaskier groaned.  
  
“Bloody hell, Geralt, _fingers,_ ” Jaskier said, closing his eyes. “I’m not going to last.”  
  
He wanted to tell Jaskier that it was okay. Jaskier didn’t have to. They could do this again. Jaskier would forget about their quarrel and would let Geralt follow him after this, and they would sleep for the night and in the morning, Geralt could do this to him again, if he wanted to. Or he could take care of Jaskier with his hand or mouth or just kiss Jaskier, if that was what he wanted. Jaskier had said something about the kissing earlier and then dropped it. Maybe Jaskier wanted Geralt to kiss him now. But Geralt had already three fingers in his ass and couldn’t reach his face like this, and Jaskier was muttering something about hurrying, so that’s what he did instead. He pulled his hand away and then slowly pushed his cock in, and Jaskier stayed quiet in his hands.  
  
“Don’t move,” Jaskier said, when Geralt was all the way in. “Just don’t move.”  
  
“I thought you wanted me to –“  
  
“Shut up,” Jaskier said. He sounded like he was in pain, but when Geralt tried to pull back, he grabbed Geralt’s thigh in a gesture that was apparently supposed to stop him from moving.  
  
“Jaskier,” Geralt said, watching his face. He had always liked Jaskier’s face. He just hadn’t given it much thought. “Are you… Are we… Am I doing this right?”  
  
“Just don’t talk,” Jaskier said but glanced at Geralt and raised his hand until he was stroking Geralt’s hair. “Let me think about something disgusting for a second.”  
  
Geralt frowned. “I don’t want you to think about something disgusting when I have my dick in your ass.”  
  
Jaskier smiled a little. “I have to, or I will come right now.”  
  
“You can come. We’ll do it again the next time.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, “there’s not going to be a _next time._ ”  
  
“You’re wrong,” Geralt said, grabbed Jaskier’s hips and settled him onto his lap. Then he pulled almost all the way out and back again, and Jaskier took a sharp breath.  
  
“Geralt –“ It sounded like a plea.  
  
“Do you want me to stop?” Geralt asked and pushed back in again.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Jaskier said under his breath, then took his dick in his own hand in what seemed like a pretty tight grip.  
  
“You can come.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said and moaned when Geralt pushed all the way into him again. “Can you just stop talking? I know I’m being an idiot, I don’t need you to remind me, and –“  
  
And then he fell silent.  
  
It was a tricky business, trying to fuck Jaskier and at the same time, replace Jaskier’s fingers with his own. But Geralt managed finally. He just held Jaskier’s dick for a moment and then he started tugging, and Jaskier came almost right away.  
  
Geralt took a deep breath. Jaskier was so quiet like this, quiet and breathing hard, his heart beating so quickly it was hard to realize how that was even possible. Humans were so breakable. But the way Jaskier was watching him was perfect. It wasn’t the first time Jaskier was looking at him like he was something to hold onto, something of value, but it had never been like _this._ Jaskier had never looked so _surprised._  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said now, in a hoarse gentle voice Geralt hadn’t known he wanted so badly to hear. “You can keep fucking me. You didn’t come yet.”  
  
“Isn’t it going to hurt?”  
  
“Just do it,” Jaskier said.  
  
It didn’t take long. And afterwards, he fell onto the bed next to Jaskier, only the bed was too small for the two of them, so he shifted until Jaskier was laying partly on him. Jaskier smelled of sweat and cum and a little bit of potatoes, and he was surprisingly heavy on Geralt’s chest, and surprisingly quiet. It was nice, though. Geralt pushed his fingers into Jaskier’s hair and kissed the side of Jaskier’s face.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said. His face was buried against Geralt’s throat and the words were a wet touch on Geralt’s skin. “We can’t do this again. You don’t really want to.”  
  
“Yes, we can. And of course I want to.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said slowly, “you’re just trying to…” But he didn’t finish it.  
  
Geralt fell asleep holding Jaskier in his arms. When he woke up, it was the middle of the night and Jaskier was about to fall onto the floor. He climbed out of the bed as carefully as he could but Jaskier woke up anyway and watched him with silent eyes as he took a damp cloth and cleaned them both the best he could. The insides of Jaskier’s thighs were smeared with his cum and it got stuck in the hair and in Geralt’s fingers. He wanted a bath. He wanted to swim in the river, he wanted to get out of this inn room and travel with Jaskier under the sky, he wanted Jaskier to sing his stupid song and be happy and not look at him like that, like he was trying to guess when this would fall apart.  
  
But it wasn’t going to fall apart. Geralt would make sure of that. He would give Jaskier whatever it was that Jaskier wanted, for as long as Jaskier wanted it, and everything would be fine.  
  
  
**  
  
  
In the morning, Geralt woke up on the bedroll. There was the vague light of early morning coming through the windows, but Jaskier was already awake, watching him from the bed. He sat up and pushed his shoulders back. The only time he thought he could feel the ageing of his body was in the morning, when there was the phantom ache of every old injury. But today, he felt quite good.  
  
“I slept well,” he said, looking at Jaskier. “I haven’t been sleeping much since we… split.”  
  
“Have you been missing me, you asshole?” Jaskier asked in a quiet voice.  
  
“How are you? Did you sleep well? Are you…”  
  
“I’m a little sore and very uncomfortable about what we did last night.”  
  
Geralt blinked.  
  
“I shouldn’t have asked you to do that,” Jaskier said. He didn’t sound angry, though, only tired.  
  
“Didn’t you sleep well?”  
  
“I slept like a goddamn baby,” Jaskier said and climbed off the bed. “Come here, Geralt.”  
  
Geralt stood up. Jaskier met him in the middle of the room, looking him in the eyes. He was still naked but Geralt wasn’t sure if he realized it or not.  
  
“Kiss me,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt swallowed. He put his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and leaned in -  
  
And Jaskier pushed his hand away and took a step back. “You would’ve done it. Just like that.”  
  
“You asked me to.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said, “no, I wanted to see what you would do. I wanted to know how fucked up we already are. Geralt, you can’t kiss me just because I ask you to.”  
  
“Don’t you want me to?”  
  
“That’s not the point,” Jaskier said, biting his lip. “I want you to mean it.”  
  
“I –“  
  
“And don’t you fucking dare to say that you mean it,” Jaskier said and shoved him at the chest. He took a step back just to be polite. “That only shows that you can’t tell the difference, and I can’t deal with that level of madness, I just can’t. I was trying to talk myself out of missing you when you fucking interrupted it yesterday and ruined everything.”  
  
Geralt snorted. “And how was it going?”  
  
“Badly,” Jaskier said, walked to him and shoved at him again. “But it could’ve gotten better. With time. I don’t even know what you want of me.”  
  
Geralt opened his mouth and then closed it.  
  
“And it’s so unfair,” Jaskier said, “so unfair that I’ve been wanting something like this for _years_ , I’ve wanted you to follow _me_ , I’ve wanted you to _need_ me and… I’ve wanted… And then you offer to fuck me, just like that, and it means _nothing_ , and how am I supposed not to take it anyway?”  
  
“It didn’t mean _nothing_ ,” Geralt said, “it meant… something.”  
  
“ _Something,_ ” Jaskier said in an ugly voice. “Geralt, I should just go and leave you here.”  
  
“Don’t do that,” Geralt said. “I could easily track you.”  
  
“I should tell you not to,” Jaskier said, then took a deep breath and started picking up his clothes from the floor where they had fallen last night. “I should tell you a lot of things. But there’s no point. I’m going to fucking forgive you anyway. And then I’m going to be ruined.” He put on his shirt and turned to Geralt. He looked surprisingly intimidating for a man who was wearing a shirt and nothing else. “But you can’t fuck me again.”  
  
“I won’t,” Geralt said, “unless you ask me to.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him for a long time and then shook his head. “ _Shit._ ”  
  
  
**  
  
  
They ate breakfast in the inn but didn’t talk. Once, Geralt asked Jaskier what he thought of the porridge, and Jaskier only glanced at him and said it was fine. Geralt nodded. The porridge was quite bad. But the minutes dragged by and Jaskier said nothing more, only finished eating in silence. And he didn’t stare at Geralt like he usually did, not even when Geralt stared at him. It was weird and not in a good way.  
  
After the breakfast, things got a little better. Jaskier followed Geralt to the stable without saying a word and then hovered there, talking nonsense to other horses, when Geralt saddled Roach. Geralt asked Jaskier if he wanted to ride Roach, and Jaskier said he didn’t. But when Geralt walked Roach out of the stable, Jaskier followed him. That was good. That was exactly what Geralt had wanted. He should have been happy with the outcome instead of wondering why Jaskier wasn’t talking.  
  
It was a bleak day. Maybe Jaskier didn’t like the weather, only he never had any difficulties pointing that out, usually multiple times. Or maybe Jaskier was just tired. But he had said he had slept like a baby. That meant he had slept well, didn’t it? When they had been walking for half a mile, Geralt asked him if he was sick, and he said he wasn’t. Then Geralt asked him again if he wanted to ride Roach, and he told Geralt to stop asking.  
  
It was far past midday, when Jaskier finally talked. “Where are we going?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Geralt said, turning to look at Jaskier. He was walking a few steps behind, his bag on his shoulder, his steps a little unsteady but not so much as to hint he was getting tired yet. He was biting his lower lip and throwing quick glances at Geralt.  
  
“You don’t know?”  
  
“I thought,” Geralt said and cleared his throat. The thing was, he hadn’t thought about it. “The south. We’re going south.”  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said, and then there was this specific sound that gave out that Jaskier was going to say something else, this thing Jaskier did with his mouth when he was searching for words. Geralt had thought he hated that sound. “So, why are we going south?” Jaskier asked.  
  
Geralt shrugged.  
  
“ _Geralt._ ”  
  
“Did you want to go east?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said and walked faster so that he could settle beside Geralt. “Not really. Not that you care about what I want, anyway.”  
  
“I told you I was sorry.”  
  
“Well, you’re going to have to keep telling me,” Jaskier said, but at least he was talking to Geralt now. “What’re we going to do in south?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“You don’t know?”  
  
Geralt shrugged. Now that he knew Jaskier was looking at him, he could focus on the road. “I guess I’m going to try to find work. You can do what you like.”  
  
“Oh,” Jaskier said, “really?”  
  
Geralt glanced at him. He looked angrier again. “What did I say?”  
  
“You’re supposed to pretend that you care about me,” Jaskier said, watching him.  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. “I care about you.”  
  
“Now you’re just telling me what I want to hear.”  
  
“I don’t _know_ what you want to hear,” Geralt said. “If I did, I would say that to you so that we could get back to normal.” He took a deep breath. Maybe Jaskier didn’t like south. Maybe that was it. “We could go west, if you like.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said and stepped closer to him, “why did you do that? Last night?”  
  
Geralt bit his lip.  
  
“You did it because you knew I wanted it,” Jaskier said. “How did you know? And don’t tell me you smelled it.”  
  
“I smelled it.”  
  
“What if I just wanted to get laid? What if it wasn’t about you at all?”  
  
Geralt glanced at him. “Was it about me, then?”  
  
Jaskier stared at him silently for a few seconds, his face flushed and his breathing a little hard. They were walking too fast for a conversation like this. “You know it was about you.”  
  
“I wasn’t sure,” Geralt said slowly. “It’s just… you stare at me.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him. “So what?”  
  
“You stare at me when I take off my clothes.”  
  
“So what?” Jaskier asked again, but his voice was smaller now. “You’re handsome. You know that.”  
  
“I look like someone who’s lived for too long and been in too many battles.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said. “You’re beautiful. And you haven’t lived for too long. Not at all. I forbid you from thinking so.”  
  
Geralt tried not to snort at _beautiful._  
  
“I meant, maybe I was looking at you only because you look nice,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Maybe you were.”  
  
“It’s not like that, Geralt,” Jaskier said, his voice serious now. He sounded like he sometimes did after he had been singing for the whole night, for a crowd who didn’t much care about him. “It was about you. I was watching you because I wanted you.”  
  
Geralt nodded. That was good. That meant that it would be easier to stop Jaskier from leaving him.  
  
“What would you have done if I had told you to fuck off?”  
  
“You did.”  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said, licking his lips. “What would you have done if I had meant it? Would you have fucked off?”  
  
“Probably not.”  
  
“What if I had thrown you out?”  
  
“You wouldn’t have been able to.”  
  
“I could have escaped from the window when you had been sleeping.”  
  
Geralt snorted. “You would’ve made terrible noise.”  
  
“But I didn’t even try.”  
  
Geralt took a deep breath. “You did. You told me you wanted me to leave.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said, “right. I did. Geralt, what’re we going to do now?”  
  
“I think,” Geralt said, “that we should try to find me some work. I’m short of coin.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, “I meant…” But he didn’t finish it. Geralt was afraid he was moping again, but after a while, he cleared his throat. “Geralt, stop.”  
  
Geralt stopped. Roach looked at him a bit funnily but didn’t protest. The sky looked like it was going to rain soon, and Jaskier was standing in the middle of the road, watching him.  
  
“Come here,” Jaskier said. “Kiss me.”  
  
Geralt walked to him. Maybe Jaskier had asked only to see that Geralt would do it, like this morning. He held the reins in one hand and put the other on Jaskier’s shoulder, and Jaskier stared at him and didn’t tell him to stop. He brushed his thumb against the skin on Jaskier’s throat, and Jaskier flinched but didn’t back off.  
  
He leaned in and kissed Jaskier on the mouth.  
  
“Goddamn,” Jaskier said against his mouth. “I thought you might be bluffing. You actually –“  
  
Geralt pressed closer to him. Jaskier smelled of Roach and the dust on the road and the porridge they had had for breakfast and, underneath that all, faintly of _Geralt._ And when Geralt bit his lower lip gently, he opened his mouth and let Geralt in, and he pushed his fingers into Geralt’s hair and pressed his body against Geralt’s. He was getting hard. He probably didn’t want Geralt to fuck him, not so soon, but maybe he wanted to Geralt take him in his hand and -  
  
Jaskier pushed Geralt’s hand away and then took a step back, leaned his hands in his knees and bent down to breathe. He was flushed and the shape of his dick was pressing against the fabric of his trousers.  
  
“Not now,” he said, not looking at Geralt. “We can’t just… We’re on the fucking _road._ ”  
  
“No one’s at sight,” Geralt pointed out. There were a few foxes not far away from them and a lot of birds, but he thought Jaskier didn’t mind about them.  
  
“I won’t ask you to jerk me off like this, not _here._ ”  
  
“Okay,” Geralt said, wondering if Jaskier wanted to kiss him again.  
  
“Okay?” Jaskier asked and glanced at him. “You would have done it.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Just like that.”  
  
“I don’t mind,” Geralt said.  
  
“You don’t _mind_ ,” Jaskier said in a thin voice and then straightened his back. He looked like he was going to say something else as well, but then he only started walking. Geralt had to take a few hastier steps to catch him, and after a few minutes, he began talking about things Geralt didn’t get at all. He talked about composing another song and he talked about his lute and his shoes and about how he had always thought he looked good in green, and then he asked Geralt several pointless questions about Roach and didn’t seem to expect Geralt to answer any of them. It was nice. It was as if things were going back to normal again, only Geralt could still taste the kiss.  
  
  
**  
  
  
They didn’t find a village for the night. When it was dusk already, they stopped at the side of the road, in a small clearing in the midst of old pine trees. Geralt took care of Roach when Jaskier was building the fire, and then they ate as the woods around them grew darker. Roach was already napping. Jaskier said something about needing a bath, and Geralt told him he smelled good, and there was a sharp silence. Geralt finished the piece of bread he had been eating.  
  
“I what?” Jaskier asked after a while.  
  
“You smell good.”  
  
“I smell of sweat and horse.”  
  
“Nothing bad with that,” Geralt said, narrowing his eyes at the flames. “You smell of me.”  
  
Jaskier was quite for a moment. “What?”  
  
“It’s getting faint but it’s there.”  
  
“That’s just weird,” Jaskier said, but he didn’t sound like he minded. He took a deep breath and then pressed the side of his knee against Geralt’s. Maybe that was some kind of a human code. Geralt thought about asking but decided against it in the end. Jaskier would tell him eventually.  
  
Jaskier didn’t tell him, so maybe it hadn’t mean anything that their knees had touched. But a little later, when they were ready to go to sleep, Jaskier came to him, holding his bedroll. Geralt had already settled his onto the ground and was sitting on it.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, tilting his head to the side. He sounded nervous. “The night is going to be cold. Could I –“  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “Could I sleep here?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. “It’s sensible. I don’t want you to freeze to death.”  
  
“I wasn’t going to…” Jaskier took a deep breath and placed his bedroll next to Geralt’s. “It’s going to be warmer if we share the blanket.”  
  
“True,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier stared at him for a moment and then sat down on his bedroll. Geralt watched as he fumbled with his clothes, apparently trying get rid of the shirt. He wasn’t looking at Geralt, but when Geralt raised his hand and ran his fingers through his hair, he froze. “Geralt? What’re you doing?”  
  
“Touching your hair.”  
  
Jaskier swallowed. “You like it that I smell of you.”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said, hoping Jaskier wouldn’t ask why. It would be difficult to explain that.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he said, stroking Jaskier’s hair. It was softer than it looked, and he had always thought it looked soft.  
  
“Geralt –“  
  
“Sorry,” Geralt said and pulled his hand away.  
  
Jaskier looked at him as if he had misunderstood something.  
  
“Are you tired?” he asked.  
  
Jaskier nodded. But after, when he was laying on the ground next to Geralt, he didn’t fall asleep. There was the cacophony of the sounds of small animals and birds coming from the woods, but Geralt kept his eyes closed and listened to Jaskier breathing. It wasn’t too cold. He had wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s waist over the bedroll and they were under the same blanket, and when he pushed his nose into Jaskier’s hair, all he could smell was Jaskier and him. It was good.  
  
“Geralt?” Jaskier asked. He was breathing more heavily. Geralt pulled him closer to himself, just to calm him down, but that didn’t seem to help. “Geralt? Are you going to… Is this how the things are now? In between us? Are you going to… are you going to hold me again tomorrow?”  
  
“If you want me to,” Geralt said. He was quite sure it was the wrong answer, but he couldn’t figure out what the right one was. And Jaskier only sighed and then fell asleep shortly after.  
  
  
**  
  
  
After two days, they came across a village along the road. It was a small and drowsy place. Everyone was staring at them as they walked through the main street to the inn. Geralt stayed behind and tried to look as unthreatening as he could, but still it took Jaskier a while to convince the innkeeper to rent them a room and make them something to eat.  
  
When they were finally in the room and the door was closed, Geralt dropped his gear onto the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. There was only one, but it wasn’t too narrow. They could fit in it easily. Or he could sleep on the floor if Jaskier preferred that. He watched as Jaskier took off the first layer of his clothes, muttering about the bath. Then he followed Jaskier to the washroom at the other side of the wall.  
  
“You first,” he said.  
  
“We could both fit in there,” Jaskier said and took off the rest of his clothes without looking at Geralt. He was still slim and narrow like he had always been, still had barely any scars, still had something soft in the way he held himself. The last time Geralt had seen him naked, they had been in the bed, fucking.  
  
“I could wait,” Geralt said, as Jaskier climbed to the bath.  
  
“You don’t need to,” Jaskier said, sat down and took a deep breath that sounded a lot like a sigh. “God, this is good.”  
  
“If you’re sure.”  
  
“What’re you worried about, that I’ll touch your dick?”  
  
Geralt tried to undress but his fingers were suddenly clumsy. “I’m not worried about that.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Jaskier said. “You don’t _mind._ ”  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
Jaskier shook his head. “Sometimes you’re just so…” But he didn’t say what Geralt was, and Geralt didn’t ask. He was busy trying to take off his clothes, and when he finally managed it, he climbed to the tub and sat down, facing Jaskier. Jaskier’s gaze slid down and up his bare chest.  
  
“You can touch me, if you want to,” he said.  
  
Jaskier flinched. His face was turning red. He looked lovely in the dim light of the candles. “It feels like a trap.”  
  
“What does?”  
  
“Everything,” Jaskier said, but he was looking at Geralt’s shoulders now, and his arms, and his hands. “You doing whatever I ask of you.”  
  
“Do you want something?” Geralt asked, leaning closer. “Now?”  
  
“What if I told you that I’m going to stick with you anyway?” Jaskier asked in a thin voice. “What if told you that you could stop all this, that you wouldn’t have to kiss me or touch my dick or hold me in your arms when we sleep, and I would stay with you all the same? For as long as you wanted me to? What if I promised that?”  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. “Do you?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, frowning, “I don’t know. I can’t promise that.”  
  
Geralt nodded.  
  
“Are you going to go back to Yennefer?” Jaskier asked.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Geralt tilted his head to the side. “I asked the djinn that I would never lose her. It was cheating. I can’t fix that.”  
  
Jaskier bit his lip. “You asked that of the djinn? Well, that would’ve been a thought.”  
  
He didn’t know what Jaskier was talking about. To his knowledge, Jaskier hadn’t been in love with a woman for years, maybe for a decade now. “It didn’t work out.”  
  
“Do you miss her?”  
  
“I’ve been busy,” Geralt said. “Trying to get you back.”  
  
Jaskier watched him quietly for a long while and then breathed out. “Can I wash your hair?”  
  
  
**  
  
  
He waited for Jaskier to say that he wanted Geralt to fuck him. He waited for it still when they were in the bed, laying under the covers, his arms wrapped around Jaskier’s waist, his crotch pressed lightly against Jaskier’s ass. He was hard and he couldn’t stop thinking about the warmth of Jaskier’s skin under his hands, or about the way Jaskier breathed in and out in his arms in a busy rhythm like humans did, or about how it had felt like when Jaskier had washed his hair in the bath. He wanted Jaskier’s fingers in his hair again. He wanted Jaskier’s fingers everywhere on him. He wanted Jaskier to turn to him and tell him to kiss him.  
  
“Jaskier,” he said. “Are you sleeping?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Me, neither.”  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt shifted closer to him, only he ended up pressing his dick tighter against Jaskier’s ass. Jaskier didn’t say anything. He smelled of arousal and the herbs in the bath and of himself and not of Geralt.  
  
“Jaskier?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“We aren’t going to fall asleep.”  
  
Jaskier sighed in his arms. “We could.”  
  
Geralt swallowed. “Tell me to kiss you.”  
  
Jaskier didn’t answer.  
  
“Jaskier?”  
  
“Can’t you just sleep?”  
  
Geralt shook his head, then realized Jaskier had his back towards him and couldn’t see. It would have been terribly easy to kiss the back of Jaskier’s neck. “Not easily.”  
  
“I thought you’ve been sleeping well now that you’ve been with me again.”  
  
“I have. Just not…”  
  
“Not what?”  
  
“Not now. Not like this.”  
  
Jaskier swallowed. “You’re just horny.”  
  
“No,” Geralt said, even though he wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, _just horny?_ That he would have wanted to fuck anyone? Because he wouldn’t have. Of course not. And Jaskier should have known that. “I only want you.”  
  
He felt Jaskier flinching. “Oh, god, Geralt. Don’t say things like that or one day, I’m going to believe you.”  
  
“Tell me to kiss you,” Geralt said, holding his breath. “Or something.”  
  
“Or something,” Jaskier said slowly. Then he turned. Geralt didn’t let go of him, so they were barely inches apart now that Jaskier was facing him. He could feel Jaskier’s breathing on his throat and Jaskier’s dick brushed against the crook of his thigh. “Okay. Lay on your back.”  
  
“What?” he asked and blinked. Jaskier was licking his lips. It had been days since he had wanted Geralt to kiss him. Maybe it had been bad. Maybe that was why Jaskier didn’t want to do it again. But surely, if Geralt had gotten another chance -  
  
“Lay on your back,” Jaskier said in a steady voice. “And don’t move.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You said _or something._ ”  
  
“I meant that maybe I could, I don’t know, jerk you off.”  
  
“I know what you meant,” Jaskier said and shoved him at the chest but gently. He wanted to grab Jaskier’s hand and hold it against his skin, but Jaskier was watching at him expectantly.  
  
He lay on his back and stayed still, when Jaskier climbed onto him and sat down on his thighs.  
  
“Am I too heavy?”  
  
He almost laughed.  
  
“You asshole,” Jaskier said in a gentle voice, then pushed his hand inside Geralt’s smallclothes. Geralt took a deep breath but couldn’t do much else, because Jaskier had already wrapped his fingers around his cock. “I told you to stay still.”  
  
“What are you –“  
  
“If you don’t want me to,” Jaskier said, “tell me now. If you don’t want me to touch you, tell me and I will stop.”  
  
“I could have –“  
  
“If you aren’t going to tell me you don’t want this, you could just shut up,” Jaskier said, speeding up his hand. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing, Geralt? You’re trying to make me so messed up that I will forget that you don’t actually _want_ me. You know that I want you so badly to touch me that I can’t walk away from it, even though I know it’s not real.”  
  
Geralt wanted to ask him why it wasn’t real, but what came out of his mouth was a low moan. He couldn’t remember when someone had touched him like this, almost bluntly, methodically, as if the only purpose was to get him off, as if there was no need for Geralt to do anything, as if the only thing someone wanted of him was for him to stay still and take it. That never happened. People wanted _him_ to do things for them. But now Jaskier was sitting on his thighs, his face determinant, his fingers bold on Geralt’s cock. He wanted Jaskier to kiss him but couldn’t ask.  
  
“Just like that,” Jaskier was saying, “you’re being good, you’re being very good, Geralt.”  
  
Geralt snorted. He wasn’t _good._ But he still didn’t realize why it wasn’t real. Maybe Jaskier wanted a woman, or someone who was still completely human, someone to grow old with.  
  
Geralt closed his eyes.  
  
“Can you come from this?” Jaskier asked. He sounded a little breathless now.  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said, and then he came. He realized vaguely that Jaskier let go of him and wanted to argue but didn’t know what to say, and besides, Jaskier was already getting out of the bed. And he wanted Jaskier to be happy. That was what he wanted. He kept his eyes open and watched as Jaskier took a cloth and wiped his hands to it, then came back to Geralt and tried to wipe off the mess Geralt had made on his own stomach. It didn’t work out very well. Jaskier swore under his breath and Geralt thought he would fall asleep any second.  
  
And he hadn’t even brought Jaskier off. “Jaskier. _Jaskier –_ “  
  
“What?” Jaskier asked, threw the cloth onto the floor and came to the bed, settling himself behind Geralt’s back. It was weird. He was supposed to be holding Jaskier and not the other way around.  
  
“I haven’t… You didn’t…”  
  
“I wish you could’ve seen your face,” Jaskier said, shifting closer to Geralt. “You looked so good, and so confused, and so disoriented, you know, if there had been a monster in this room, you’d totally be dead. You wouldn’t have known where your sword was.”  
  
“I know where my sword is.”  
  
“You were looking at me like you couldn’t remember my name,” Jaskier said. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”  
  
“I thought you’d want me to…”  
  
“Stop talking,” Jaskier said and squeezed his arms around Geralt’s waist. “You sound like you’re about fall asleep any second now.”  
  
“I wanted to be nice to you.”  
  
“Well, you’ve always been kind of bad at that,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice. “It’s not just your fault. I know it’s not easy to be nice someone when they want so much more than you. But also, the way you’re trying to keep me is pretty bad.”  
  
“I thought it was working,” Geralt said. He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.  
  
“Oh, yes, it is,” Jaskier said to his ear. “That’s the worst part. Just sleep now. Good night, Geralt.”  
  
“You didn’t –“  
  
“I’m going to listen to your lovely snoring and jerk myself off,” Jaskier said and kissed the back of his neck.  
  
He wanted to say that Jaskier was being mad. He wasn’t going to let Jaskier do that. And besides, he didn’t snore. But when he tried to speak, he realized vaguely that he was already half-asleep.   
  
**  
  
In the morning, he woke up in an empty bed. Jaskier’s lute was still in the room but Jaskier wasn’t. Geralt put on his clothes and went to downstairs, and there he found Jaskier sitting at the table, eating breakfast.  
  
“You didn’t wake me up,” he said, sitting across the table.  
  
“You were sleeping.”  
  
“I woke up and you were just gone.”  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath and glanced at him. He looked tired. “I wasn’t _just gone._ I had come for a breakfast. I’m sure you could figure that out. Eat something, Geralt.”  
  
Geralt opened his mouth. He had done everything Jaskier had asked of him. It wasn’t fair that Jaskier was sneaking out from the room in the morning or looking at him like that, like there was something Jaskier wasn’t happy about.  
  
“Okay,” he said and went to ask for breakfast. It was porridge again. Outside, it was raining, and he couldn’t stop watching Jaskier’s fingers holding the spoon.  
  
  
**  
  
  
It kept raining until midday. They stayed in their room. Jaskier sketched something on the paper and sometimes played a few chords with his lute, and Geralt tried to inspect his potions but couldn’t concentrate. At midday, the innkeeper came to knock on their door, but luckily the rain had stopped, and they could leave without getting soaked.  
  
Geralt led Roach and Jaskier walked a few steps behind. He was quiet again, so Geralt asked him what he had been playing with his lute. He sounded a little surprised and didn’t answer with many words, so Geralt asked him about the song he had been singing in the inn a few nights ago, the one about a girl who wanted to see the world.  
  
“I didn’t think you were listening,” Jaskier said and then talked about the song for a while. When he fell silent, Geralt asked him what he thought of the weather.  
  
In the evening, they stopped at the side of the road, ate, and then Jaskier played his lute for a while. He didn’t sing, though. And he didn’t look at Geralt, when they lay down on their bedrolls and pressed together under the blanket. Geralt held him by the waist and he breathed in a steady rhythm. Geralt fell asleep first.  
  
This was what he had wanted. He thought about it a lot in the following days. Jaskier talked to him and smiled at him and laughed at him and sometimes played his lute to him. There was something unsettling in Jaskier’s eyes, something that hadn’t been there before, but otherwise, everything was fine. Geralt had easily grown comfortable to share a bed or a blanket with him, to hold him in his arms until they both fell asleep. And when one night, he tried to sleep without wrapping himself around Jaskier, he missed the warmth of Jaskier’s body as if something was eating his bones.  
  
Jaskier didn’t ask him to kiss him anymore, but sometimes he walked to Geralt, grabbed his chin or put a hand onto his shoulder, and kissed him. Then there always was a second of silence as if Jaskier was holding his breath, waiting to see what Geralt would do. Geralt always kissed him back. But when he once went to Jaskier, wanting to kiss him, Jaskier pushed his hands away and slipped away from him as easily as Geralt had seen him slipping away from the reach of a lover’s angry husband. Geralt told himself he didn’t mind. But he was still thinking about it hours later.  
  
One night, he was about to fall asleep in a nice bed in a nice inn room after a long day, when Jaskier started wriggling in his arms. He loosened his grip and Jaskier turned to him and pressed their dicks together through the fabric. He was already hard and Geralt was not, but he took Jaskier’s face in between his hands and waited for Jaskier to kiss him. Instead, Jaskier said he wanted Geralt to fuck him again. Geralt asked if he was certain and kissed him, and he poked Geralt at the chest and then climbed onto his knees on the mattress, facing down, spreading his thighs when Geralt placed his hand on the low of his back, easy and steady. He wished he had been able to see Jaskier’s face as he slowly fucked his fingers into him, but then again, surely Jaskier knew what he wanted. That was all that mattered. Later, Jaskier took Geralt’s dick in his mouth and sucked him off and then lay silently on the bed and didn’t let Geralt hold him.  
  
This was what Geralt had wanted, but there was a sour taste in it that he couldn’t quite place. Another day went without Jaskier kissing him, and in the night, he stroked Jaskier’s knee for almost five minutes until finally Jaskier took his hand and held it. Then Jaskier told him a tale about someone he had once known who had been an idiot, and Geralt quickly stopped listening to the words and clung into Jaskier’s voice instead. It was difficult to remember that there had been times when he had thought Jaskier was talking too much. Now his own thoughts got too loud every time Jaskier stopped talking.  
  
Two nights after that, they came to another village, drank a few ales in a local inn, and Jaskier sang a few songs and slept with a pretty girl who came to talk to him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“You’ve been travelled with him for a long time,” someone said. It sounded like a question.  
  
Geralt raised his eyes from his ale. The innkeeper was watching him. She was an old woman with a wrinkled face and a knowing look in her eyes. She knew nothing.  
  
“Long enough,” Geralt said. Jaskier was still in the room upstairs with the girl. Geralt couldn’t exactly complain, because Jaskier had paid for the room and told him to get his own. But he wasn’t going to do that. He was going to stay with Jaskier like he always did. Surely Jaskier would be finished with the girl far before midnight.  
  
 _Shit._ It was midnight already.  
  
“You want a room?” asked the innkeeper.  
  
“No,” Geralt said.  
  
“Then maybe you should go talk to him.”  
  
Geralt emptied his tankard. “He’s fucking.”  
  
The innkeeper stared at him for far too long. He scowled at her, and she took a deep breath and sat in a chair across the table, leaning towards him. “We get stubborn as we get older, don’t we? But you should talk to your man.”  
  
“He’s not my man,” Geralt said. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to discuss this with an old woman who didn’t understand anything of him and Jaskier. “He’s my…” But he didn’t know what Jaskier was to him, not exactly.  
  
“But the thing is,” the woman said, patting Geralt’s hand. Geralt blinked. “The thing is that we don’t get too many chances at love, not in our lifetime.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip. “I don’t love him.”  
  
“I never said you did,” the woman said and stood up. Her joints cracked. “Another ale?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said, stood up and went upstairs.  
  
The door to their room – to Jaskier’s room – was closed. He could hear quiet laughter behind it, but what he hated was the silence. He imagined them on the bed, her hands all over Jaskier, Jaskier’s eyes soft and easy as they had been on Geralt before, or so he thought. He wasn’t certain. He hadn’t been paying enough attention back them.  
  
And he didn’t _care_ , not exactly, it was only that he absolutely hated the thought that Jaskier was with someone that wasn’t him.  
  
He knocked on the door.  
  
“Not now,” Jaskier called.  
  
“Please,” Geralt said.  
  
There was a short silence, then the sound of Jaskier’s footsteps coming to the door. When he opened it, his face was flushed and he was only wearing his smallclothes, and he didn’t look happy. Behind his shoulder, Geralt could see the girl sitting on the bed with her knees folded against her chest. She was looking at Geralt with curious eyes.  
  
“What?” Jaskier asked in a steady voice, staring at Geralt.  
  
“I want to stay here for the night,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier shook his head.  
  
“I want to stay with you,” Geralt said again, “if you will have me. Don’t make me get another room.”  
  
“I don’t know what games you’re playing, Geralt,” Jaskier said, “but let me be for the night.”  
  
“I did what you wanted,” Geralt said, glancing at the girl who was climbing off the bed and picking up her clothes from the floor. But he couldn’t look away from Jaskier, not for long. “I did everything you asked of me.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, but his voice wasn’t steady anymore. He took a deep breath and then glanced over his shoulder, at the girl who was putting on her dress. “Sorry. I think I should –“  
  
“I get it,” the girl said, smiling at him. “Just make him beg for it.”  
  
Jaskier smiled shortly. “Well, thank you for…”  
  
“Thank _you_ ,” the girl said, then gave Jaskier a kiss on the cheek, patted Geralt on the shoulder and left. She was whistling a tune that Jaskier had been singing earlier that evening. When she was gone, Geralt took a step towards Jaskier. Jaskier put his hand on Geralt’s chest, stopping him.  
  
“What was that about?” Geralt asked. It was weird, letting Jaskier to hold him back.  
  
“What was what about?” Jaskier asked, looking at his own hand on Geralt’s chest. “She liked me and I liked her.”  
  
“She’s just a girl.”  
  
“She’s thirty-six years old,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice. “You’re being jealous and you have no right.”  
  
“I’m not –“  
  
Jaskier pulled his hand away.  
  
Geralt grabbed his wrist. “Tell me what to do.”  
  
“I can’t do this anymore,” Jaskier said, wrapping his fingers around Geralt’s wrist, so Geralt didn’t know anymore who was holding whom. “I can’t do this and I can’t stop.”  
  
“It’s alright,” Geralt said, then slowly leaned towards Jaskier until he took a few steps back and Geralt could close the door behind them. It was better like this. The room still smelled of the girl, but now he had the door locked and he had Jaskier for himself again. “Tell me why you’re unhappy. I’ll fix it.”  
  
Jaskier licked his lips, then tried to let go of Geralt’s wrist. Geralt didn’t let him.  
  
“I’m in love with you,” he said.  
  
Geralt stared at him.  
  
“Can’t you tell?” Jaskier asked and then pulled his hand away. This time, Geralt let him do it. His own hands were trembling a little.  
  
“Really?”  
  
Jaskier nodded.  
  
Geralt took a step towards him. He backed away.  
  
“Tell me what you want me to do,” Geralt said.  
  
“I don’t know,” Jaskier said, looking at him. “It’s terrible that you’re doing everything I ever wanted of you, only you’re doing it for wrong reasons. And when I try to stay away from you, it’s not better at all.”  
  
“You slept with that girl.”  
  
“That woman,” Jaskier said, “and it was good. It was good to sleep with someone who isn’t breaking my fucking heart.”  
  
“I never wanted to –“  
  
“Yeah, well,” Jaskier said, turned away from Geralt and walked a circle on the floor, stopped by the window with his hands rested on his hips, his back still turned to Geralt. “I know you don’t mean to,” he said, his shoulders moving with his breaths. “You’re doing it anyway.”  
  
Geralt swallowed. “Can I kiss you?”  
  
Jaskier turned to him. “What?”  
  
He opened his mouth but whatever he thought he had been going to say got stuck in his throat. Jaskier was looking at him with something in his eyes that Geralt couldn’t read. But he had wanted Geralt to kiss him before. Maybe he wanted that now. And Geralt wanted…  
  
“I want to kiss you,” he said. “If you let me.”  
  
“I don’t want to play your games,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice.  
  
“It’s not a game.”  
  
“You aren’t in love with me, Geralt. You can’t give me what I want, because you aren’t in love with me.”  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
Jaskier shook his head.  
  
“Because I don’t know,” Geralt said. “I don’t know that.”  
  
“You don’t mean that,” Jaskier said, but he didn’t sound certain. “You’re just saying what I want to hear.”  
  
“I don’t know what you want to hear,” Geralt said. “If I did, I would have told you that already and we’d be in bed, trying to get to sleep.”  
  
Jaskier opened his mouth.  
  
“Or kissing,” Geralt said.  
  
“I don’t know what you want of me,” Jaskier said, staring at him. Then he seemed to remember that he was almost naked. He looked down at his own body, blinked, and went to the bed, took the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Then he glanced at Geralt and sat down on the edge of the mattress.  
  
“Can I come to the bed?” Geralt asked.  
  
“Fine,” Jaskier said, burying his face in his hands. “ _Bloody hell._ I know I’ve always been kind of out of control when it comes to love, but this is fucked up even in my standards. But you can come to the bed.” He took a deep breath, looking at Geralt from between his fingers. “And you can kiss me if you want to. I just… it’s breaking my brain that I want so badly for you to mean this.”  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. He walked to the bed, sat down, pulled off the first layer of his clothes and then undressed his undershirt as well. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. He felt like he was walking on a thin ice that would crack when he put his weight on it the wrong way. Of course it had happened a few times that he had fallen through the ice, usually late in the fall when the ice looked solid but wasn’t.  
  
He held his breath, took Jaskier’s hands and held them, and then he kissed Jaskier on the mouth. Jaskier didn’t pull away. He didn’t answer the kiss, either. He just let Geralt kiss him, his slow breaths warm on Geralt’s face, his nose poking at Geralt’s. His mouth was barely ajar and his hands in Geralt’s hold were still.  
  
“Listen,” he said when Geralt pulled back to watch him. “People here seem to like my songs. I could stay here for a few days. Alone. And don’t say anything,” he said and tugged at Geralt’s hand. “This thing that you and I are doing, it’s a little bit too much. I need some time. It’s two days’ ride to Creyden from here, Geralt. Can you meet me there in a week?”  
  
“In a week,” Geralt said. His voice was low and unhappy, but he couldn’t help it.  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said. “In a week, in Creyden.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said, pulled his hands away from Geralt’s grip, then put them on his shoulders and kissed him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He hated travelling without Jaskier. No one talked to him, no one kissed him, no one slept with him, and when he had to talk to people along the road, there was no one who got offended for him when people were rude. But it became easier in a few days. He ran into half a dozen nekkers on the road to Barefield, killed them and destroyed their nest, and when people came back to the village they had been forced to abandon, he was already getting ready to leave. He was tired and needed a bath and all he had to eat were baked apples, and Roach was even more quiet than usually, and the sunset was lovely. For a moment, he didn’t particularly miss Jaskier.  
  
Later, he laid his bedroll on the ground in a small clearing. The ground was cold, and his arms were empty, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Jaskier saying that Geralt wasn’t in love with him. He wished Jaskier would have explained how he knew that. Perhaps then Geralt could have stopped wondering. But as things were, he lay awake until the early hours of morning and wondered what exactly it was that he was missing. He wanted Jaskier alive, safe and happy, and he wanted to be with Jaskier.  
  
He rode to Creyden a day before he was supposed to. There were a few inns in the town, but he had a hunch that Jaskier would pick the place with the cleanest floor and the biggest crowd, so he went there. He had been sitting in the corner with his ale for half an hour when he heard familiar footsteps coming through the door.  
  
He stood up. Jaskier froze and stared at him for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and walked to him. The people around them continued their chatter and their arguments.  
  
“You’re early,” Jaskier said, putting his things on the bench. “Have you eaten yet?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“I’ll get us something. I have coin, the people around here seem to have a good ear for music.” He smiled at Geralt, but his hands seemed restless. “Just wait here.”  
  
Geralt waited. Jaskier talked to the innkeeper, smiled and laughed, and then came back to him with two plates of mashed potatoes. He realized it was difficult to eat when Jaskier was watching him. But he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a week and the food was great, so eventually he forgot about Jaskier for a moment. When he had cleared the plate, Jaskier was smiling at him.  
  
“You were hungry.”  
  
“Are you going to eat that?” he asked, pointing at Jaskier’s plate.  
  
“Of course,” Jaskier said and started eating. “So, what did you do?”  
  
“I killed some nekkers and destroyed their nest,” Geralt said, “and slayed a few downers and some… rats. But they had been cursed. It was very unpleasant. You wouldn’t have liked that.”  
  
“I’m sure I would’ve kept my distance,” Jaskier said, his mouth full of food. “What else? How’s Roach?”  
  
“Great,” Geralt said. “Didn’t talk much.” He cleared his throat. “I missed your nonsense.”  
  
“I missed your brooding,” Jaskier said, not looking at him. “And some other things as well. Did you already ask for a room?”  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
Jaskier stabbed his mashed potatoes with the fork. “Do you think we should share?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Even after what I told you?”  
  
Geralt nodded and drank of his ale. “I need you to explain to me why I’m not… what you said that you know that I’m not.”  
  
“I can’t explain that,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice, “no more than I can explain why I…” He lowered his voice into something that was barely more than a sigh. Geralt could hear him easily anyway. “…why I love you. Geralt, I’m not very good at love. I’m 41 years old and my longest relationship was with Countess de Stael. And you know how that ended.”  
  
“You’re better than me,” Geralt said.  
  
“Well, maybe we can have a contest about who is worse,” Jaskier said in a vaguely hopeful voice.  
  
“Maybe we can,” Geralt said. He was feeling oddly hopeful, too. He watched as Jaskier finished his meal, and then he emptied his tankard of ale and stayed a foot behind as Jaskier asked the innkeeper about the room. The room, as it turned out, was small and scarce, but there was fire in the hearth and a washroom with a bath drawn for them, and a bed in which they could easily fit.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going to go from here?” Jaskier asked, walking to the washroom and starting to take off his clothes. His movements were a little sharp and he was breathing too fast.  
  
“I don’t know,” Geralt said. “I thought we could talk about it.”  
  
“Talk about it?” Jaskier said, pushing his shirt off his shoulders.  
  
“I think we should decide together.”  
  
“I guess you need a place where there’s monsters,” Jaskier said, tugging his trousers to his ankles and then folding them on the chair. “And I need a place where people like good music and fine poetry.”  
  
“I suppose we could find a place like that.”  
  
“Do you think we’re going to be sharing a room?”  
  
“It’d be waste of coin not to share,” Geralt said. He had managed to undo the buckles of his armor. He laid it on the floor and then undressed to his smallclothes. Jaskier was just standing there, naked now, ready to step into the bath, but he didn’t, he did nothing but watched Geralt.  
  
“What’re you doing, Geralt?”  
  
“I can wait,” Geralt said and took a step towards him. “Or we could share the bath.”  
  
“Your knees are going to be poking at my chest,” Jaskier said slowly. “I’m going to be practically in your lap.”  
  
“That’s true,” Geralt said. “Do you want me to wait?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said and bit his lip. “But I really, really need to be able to believe that you only ask of things that you actually want. I need to know that if you… if you offer to fuck me, you want it, too.”  
  
“It’s not easy to tell the difference.”  
  
“I need you to try,” Jaskier said in a small voice.  
  
Geralt nodded and then took off his smallclothes. Jaskier blinked and stepped into the bath, grabbing the edge for support. His hands seemed to be shaking a little. He sat down in the water and then watched, his gaze clinging into Geralt’s skin, as Geralt came to him. Geralt only wished he would do this right, and that he would keep on doing this right. It seemed kind of obvious that at some point, he would make a mistake. Eventually, he would do something to disappoint Jaskier. He would love Jaskier in the wrong way or not enough. Love, he thought, seemed like a narrow path on the steep mountain side, slippery after weeks of rain. He hated that kind of paths. But he would have followed Jaskier on one anyway.  
  
“I’m going to try,” Geralt said, climbed to the bath and sat down. His knees were, in fact, poking Jaskier at the chest. Jaskier put his hand on Geralt’s thigh and squeezed lightly.  
  
“Good,” Jaskier said. “Come a little closer and I’ll kiss you.”


End file.
